


Gibson's Dream

by anniesburg



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Kieran gets the love he deserves, Light Dom/sub, One Shot, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Premature Ejaculation, Sleepy Cuddles, Smut, sub!Kieran
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 09:27:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17722565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anniesburg/pseuds/anniesburg
Summary: "She was elegant, upper-class, perfectly dressed, and dominating in her relations with men, who were generally shown as so enthralled as to be willing to perform any task for a Gibson Girl."





	Gibson's Dream

**Author's Note:**

> i just love kieran so much and i am In Denial. hence the porn. anyway, hope you like it!!

It took ages to get him to open up. In your opinion, looking at Kieran now with his slack-jaw and wide eyes more than makes the effort worth it. Subtle flirtations were hit or miss, usually miss as the reason for all your winks and smiles flew over his head in a wide arc. But he liked that you were friendly, understood that well enough.

So when you gripped his rear and said in no uncertain terms what you wanted to do to him, you bore witness to the sum of all your patience. He went red, weak in the knees. He stuttered and broke into a smile of disbelief. Kieran knew you liked him, but evidently not like that. 

He’s a sweet man, you’re sorry life’s kicked him so hard. Sometimes you wonder if he still feels the ache of steel-toed boots to his ribs. You treat him gently, undressing him with a reverence that neither of you are accustomed to. 

Kieran’s not a virgin, even if he does blush like a Christian. He swears that he’s had lots of girls, just never expected someone like you would want someone like him looking her in the eye. You lock your gaze with his, his pants down to his ankles already. You go in for the kill.

You’re sure some reservations persisted, just waiting for one of the meaner boys to jump out of the shadows of the tent with a pair of shears. They’re too hard on him, you think. But when you kiss him, gently and with too much tongue to imply anything else, he softens. 

“I don’t want anybody else looking at me, Kieran Duffy,” you say, all quiet like him. Would that you could be wild in the face of all this sweetness. He starts to stutter again, you take another kiss. 

Outside, the crickets chirp just as loud as the drunken singing. It’s the perfect time for a little fun, nobody to barge in and ruin a moment that’s taken so long to cultivate. Kieran’s half-naked already but you’re inclined to take things slow if that’s what he needs. 

“This ain’t a trick?” He still asks between warm whisky-kisses. You shake your head and keep him close. 

Kieran’s starved for this kind of attention, you figure. He leans into every touch, doesn’t flinch even a fraction. You kiss his cheeks, his jaw and his neck, your hands skirting over the bones and muscle in his back. 

He takes of your hips, your breasts almost greedily but never painfully. Without really meaning to, you lean back into him. His name comes as sighs, adoring and clearly special to him. 

The way he says your name is a surprise. Like a plea bargain. And all of a sudden he kisses you like a man who’s going to hang. There’s desperation, not quite back in the territory of unease but it makes you pull away just slightly. 

“What’s wrong, lamb?” You ask him, turning that weaponized taunt into an affectionate nickname. He nearly swoons. 

“I want you so bad.” He says like you don’t know that, it makes you smile a little. 

“How bad?” You whisper back in the half-light. A lone lantern gives off a glow from the corner, casting his silhouette and yours against the canvas wall. You’ll turn it off when things get serious, it won’t do to make a spectacle out of something so special. 

Your question seems to throw him for a loop, he struggles for a moment like he can’t find the right way to put it in words. He doesn’t find it, after all and instead grabs for your hand at his shoulder. With a deep breath like he’s taking a plunge, Kieran places your palm directly over his bare cock. 

Laughing will give him the wrong impression, you’re sure but you want to. Not because this is particularly funny, but for the absurdity of such a bold gesture coming from someone like him. But you deny yourself even a smile, letting out a gasp and a momentary look of shock. You refuse to let it persist should he get the idea that you’re a lady. 

“My, my, Mister Duffy,” you exhale. He’s not exactly impressive in size, you can feel that he’s hard as a rock and maybe four inches. But he makes up for it, you note, in so many other ways. 

“Too forward?” He asks with a lilt to his voice that you’d expect of a bolder man. But finally, you allow yourself to smile. If Kieran wants the tension diffused, you’ll help diffuse it. 

“No, you’re just how I like it,” you start, “in every way.” He looks like he can’t believe his luck, but hides the evidence to that quick enough. 

“Smart girl,” he replies and that has you lifting an eyebrow. “it ain’t much, but I know what to do with it.” 

“That so?” You ask with a foxlike grin and a desire to be as close to him as possible. Your hand works in slow, short motions over the shaft of his prick. He all but whines. “Maybe I know what to do with it, too.”

“Clearly,” he says but he’s all strained-sounding. He leans against you, arms around your uncorseted waist. 

“You give it pretty good already, Duffy,” you start. To your surprise, he cuts you off. 

“Oh, Kieran. Call me Kieran, please---” he sounds embarrassed that he didn’t let you finish first. But this sounds like it matters to him. “I--- I like how it sounds. More than I ever have before.” 

You nod, slowly. 

“Kieran, you give it real good. You pull more than your weight and I think you’ve earned someone giving back. Just relax.” He seems not to understand, but isn’t rude enough to interrupt you a second time. When it’s clear your done, he pipes up. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” He says. “Giving back? I---” you give his cock a firmer tug and he reels, going quiet. 

“I mean let me take care of you, okay? I know you’ve had girls, that you know what you’re doing. But I want to make you feel real good. How’s that sound?” He nods, it’s a sight that could make you shiver. His head’s still bowed partially, like he wants to crumple and drop it to your shoulder. 

“Good, sounds good.” With your free hand, you pull him into a tight hug.

“That’s it, lamb. Why don’t you go lie down? And turn out the light for me, there’s a sweet boy.” He follows orders beautifully, leaving you even when you can tell he doesn’t want to. Kieran shuffles, pants around his ankles to the lantern and twists the knob. The flame flickers and burns even lower. 

“Can I---” he begins when he turns to see you unbuttoning your blouse. He’s still standing up. 

“No sir, Kieran.” You say with a shake of your head and a seriousness that has him nervous. “You’re going to lie down like I told you. I might phrase things as questions to be polite but you’ll find my instructions are very specific.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He says after a slight pause. But his voice sounds a little deeper, certainly aroused. Kieran kicks off his boots and his trousers, sitting on the cot covered in deerskin blankets before tugging at his scarf. 

You don’t deal in corsets any more. Nasty, restrictive things they are, keeping a grown woman from putting on her own shoes. You’re bare underneath your blouse, undoing the belt high on your waist. 

Kieran’s watching you with bated, warm breaths. His hand’s between his legs, stroking away. You tut. 

“Hands off, sweet thing.” There is a very unladylike edge to your tone, an aggressive aspect that he understands. “Be good, I don’t want to be rough with you.” 

He does as he’s told, keeping his hands at his sides after that.

You’re near-naked very quickly. Once the blouse and belt are discarded you waste no time in unzipping your skirt and prying your boots off by the heel with your toe. In stockings and drawers, you stalk towards Kieran Duffy. 

“Unless,” you continue, kneeling at the edge of the cot. The dim firelight moves over your skin and his eyes dart to take in all that is exposed. You put your hand on his knee and coax him into parting his legs. “you want me to be rough.” 

“I can take it,” he insists. “I’m not some boy---” 

You pat his inner thigh, goosebumps bloom on his skin like daisies after spring.

“I know, lamb.” You say. “We can do rough some other time. For now---” you dip your head, pressing a kiss to his bare knee. “you look like you could use a little gentleness, huh?” 

“Uh-huh,” he says but you get the feeling Kieran didn’t mean to say that out loud. He goes beet-red and watches as you move in front of him. 

You settle between his legs, touching his soft thighs before moving your hands to his shoulders. Carefully, you ease him back. 

“What’re you gonna do?” He asks, spinning the question as an attempt to be enticing rather than admitting he’s intimidated. It’s a nice sound, either way. You can see by the way he lifts his head that he’s waiting for the sharp edge of a knife to his balls again. 

“It’s okay, Kieran,” you say his name like a languid indulgence, running your warm hands over his hips. His hard cock rests against his belly, you pick it up and give it a slow stroke. “I’m gonna make you feel good, of course.” 

He doesn’t respond, but he does let his head fall back. His eyes shut tight and he can only hear the way you shift near his knees. 

You move onto your stomach, careful not to startle him by doing so. Never in your life will you understand the appeal of taking someone in your mouth while they’re stood up. It leads to sore knees and backs, you’ll take this more relaxed approach any day. 

There’s nothing to take but pride in the way Kieran’s eyes fly open the moment your tongue licks the slit at the head of his cock. He looks down and lets out a soft groan at the sight of you. 

He swears to God that you’re going to kill him. He has no fucking idea. 

“Just getting started, lamb,” you say but it’s a solemn promise. 

You take your sweet time, lapping at the tip of his prick with strokes small and slow. Kieran remembers your request that he keep his hands out of the way, he covers his face with his hands. 

He’s begging in under a minute, but he can’t decide what for. Part of him pleads for you to end the teasing, but a few seconds later he asks that you never stop. You’re not sure which side of him is stronger. 

So you keep on with your teasing, administering small licks and tentative kisses over his cock. When it’s going on five minutes of indecision, you give a small shrug. 

“Well, if you don’t know what you want---” you say, tapping into your own duality and the part of you with a tendency to be mean. Kieran whines but doesn’t protest when you shift your attention to his thighs. 

They’re warm and you see fit to love thoroughly an overlooked aspect of his anatomy. 

Your teeth scrape his skin, kissing hard and leaving teeth marks. Kieran squirms, he whines and lifts his hips like you don’t know what he’d rather have. But you’re not so certain that he’s sure about it, either. His noises of frustration turn very slowly to something more appreciative. He’s quite good about keeping himself spread out, as if afraid of what’ll happen if he’s too forceful. 

He learns this to be true quick enough. When his hips buck, keeping you from sinking your teeth into the pliant skin of his thigh you press your hands to hipbones and hold them there. 

“Keep still, lamb,” you tell him with an edge to your voice that implies he better. The poor man nods. 

The idea that he might enjoy being denied creeps in to your mind. All the boys you’ve had before tend to get impatient after too long without any satisfaction, but Kieran seems completely uninterested in forcing you to quicken your pace. 

Doesn’t mean he’s silent, though. 

“Please,” he nearly wears that word out, it starts up early on. You pet his thighs, reminding him with harder bites to keep his volume low. It’d be a shame if he were teased for this. “please, I’m aching, really---” 

“You don’t say?” You ask, looking up at him with an appraising smile. Kieran’s face is red, staring down at you with wide eyes. “What’s it you want?” 

“O-oh--- I---” he doesn’t have a clue how to phrase it and that only makes your smile more sinister. “I-I--- I don’t--- I want you to put it back in your mouth, I guess?” 

“Put what in my mouth? Use your words, Kieran.” He nods. 

“My cock,” he clarifies. You tilt your head, slowly like you’re considering it. 

“If you promise not to holler out and wake every man in camp,” you propose. He nods again. 

You decide to take his word for it, feeling slightly guilty for drawing out this tentative first time even if he does enjoy it. You do as you’ve made him say, wrapping your lips around the head. 

Kieran’s hips buck hard against your hands, showing a strength that you imagine lies dormant most of the time. He’s been driven to desperation, how sweet. You don’t bother to admonish him, you call tell he knows he’s done wrong. His hands cover his face again. 

The length of him fits comfortably in your mouth, tasting lake water and salt. He spends most of his time up to his hips fishing, it doesn’t surprise you. Your mind strays to the bathtub at the hotel in town, he might like it there. 

Keeping it in mind for a more opportunistic time, you hollow your cheeks and set about giving him as good a time as you can. He has no complaints, his cock twitching and hips thrusting half-heartedly. 

You notice he’s biting down on his fist to keep from crying out. As much as the sight of him trying desperately to contain himself is appealing, you can’t help but wish for something different. 

Now’s the time to mention it, you figure. He’s already close by the way his muscles are tensing. Without a second thought, your mouth leaves him. Kieran’s whine is muffled and perfect. 

“So I know this might be jumping the gun,” you start, trying not to laugh at the confused expression on his face. He looks like he’s trying to figure out if he really wanted to come, just then. “but next time I wouldn’t mind getting a room at the hotel.” 

Kieran’s on cloud nine. Not even all the way through the first time and you’re thinking about when it can happen again. It’s not a blow to your pride, hardly, it feels good to see him light up. 

“Wouldn’t mind a little privacy. You van der Linde’s are real friendly.” The habit of isolating him is getting annoying. Kieran sounds careless for a change and you don’t have the heart to send it crashing back to how it usually is. 

“Don’t I know it, been at it longer than you. Next time we can go some place nice and quiet. At least, quiet for a little while.” The top of his thigh’s a good place for your cheek to rest, watching him intently as he decides whether or not to ask you to continue. 

He doesn’t get the chance to act on either option, you lift your head and get back to it. Second time’s a charm. 

But whatever you’re hoping for, whatever fun you have planned is entirely short-lived. Kieran’s eyes go wide, he acts for the first time since he grabbed your hand and put it over his prick. His hips stutter against your hands, fluttering like butterflies and by the time you know why it’s too late. 

Kieran comes in your mouth with a muffled cry, looking mortified and miserable. You bet he would’ve liked to keep on going, seeing how much you could give before taking away. The fun comes to an abrupt halt as you pull away, wiping your mouth but making a point to swallow his seed. 

He gulps, looking up at you as you sit up on your knees. 

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles, looking at the canvas wall of the tent like he’s afraid of the expression he’ll find on your face. 

“Sorry?” You ask, reaching down to poke at a bruise on his thigh that bears a striking resemblance to the shape of your open mouth. He winces. “You want me to make you real sorry, lamb?” 

You’ve confused him again, that much is obvious, Kieran looks at you finally. Saying nothing to better explain what you mean, you take his now-softening length in your hand and move as if to start the whole process over again. 

His eyes go wide as a deer’s again, it’s really quite sweet to see. He nods, obviously so but rather than cover his mouth, he grips at the fur underneath him. 

“It’s okay, Kieran,” you remind him, experimenting with this is fine so long as he knows you’re not really upset with him. Disappointed better sums up how you feel. “I said I was going to take care of you, right?” 

He nods, seemingly lost in his own little world. It becomes clear when it’s too much, too much stimulation and too much pain. Kieran’s eyes squeeze shut, he puts his hand on his stomach like he’s debating pushing you away. 

“Words, honey,” you say, “talk to me.” 

“Enough,” he whispers, it’s barely audible but you take your hand away. “thank you.” 

Mary-Beth’s right, he’s real sweet. You sidle up next to him, ignoring the present ache between your thighs as his eyes start to close. If you were crueler you’d be scandalized, but an idiot would be able to see that he’s worn out. 

Lying at his side, it’s immediate the way he curls against you. Your arms fold around him, just as quick to give this as anything else. His forehead rests at your shoulder, his skin is hot to the touch. 

“Rest up, lamb,” you start, “’cause when you’re ready to go again I expect full compensation.” 

He hums into your neck, you tangle your fingers in his hair. 

“I,” you begin as his breathing starts to even out, “am going to ride you until you break.”


End file.
